The Villagio

8 pm

"What can I getcha?"
"I'm early."
No one asked you. "Date?"
"Yeah. I hate it when I show up early."
"Hey now, I call that gentlemanly."
"Well, I feel like a sheep, and sheep get slaughtered."
That's funny. "You look like more of a lion to me."
"Hmmm, call me Simba."
"Well Simba, what can I getcha?"
"High Noon."
Nope. "Try again."
"What?"
"Young Simba, it’s 60 degrees outside. You're on a date. A woman is getting all dressed up for you, and she's going to show up to see you drinking a High Noon?"
"Tequila soda?"
"What, are we on spring break? Do better."
"Ugh, you're going to make me get a cocktail, aren't you?"
"You're at the Villagio, Simba. Get a cocktail."
"Great service you guys got here. Ugh, give me a... what's that drink called? With the mint leaves."
"A mojito."
"Yeah, a mojito!"
Sigh. "Simba, what part of your current situation gives you the impression you're in flip-flops and shorts at a beach? This is a night out in the big city baby! You've got a date with a hottie. Live a little."
"Hey, I've lived!"
"Have you?"
"Old fashioned!"
"I’m sorry, did we suddenly transport this bar and all its contents to Kentucky? Have we been drinking all day and just looking for one more poison pill to send us to a night of lackluster sleep?"
"Grim."
"I too, have lived, Simba."
"Ugh... I got it! Vodka martini! Shaken! Not stirred! 3 mother fucking olives!"
"Yes, Simba! Yes!"

I like that kid. Good kid. Hope his date shows up. It's like I always say: never a dull night at the Villagio.

8:15 pm

"Another?"
"I think I should wait."
"She text you?"
"Yeah, she texted me at 803 saying she's running 15 minutes late."
"Ugh."
"I know. These chicks, man."
"She's probably taking her time getting ready for you."
"I'd rather have her unprepared but here."
"No, you wouldn't."
"Yes, I would."
"No, Simba."
"Yes, Mufasa."
Nice. "That’s father to you."
"Nice."
"You want her dressed up, trust me. It's a first date, right?"
"Yeah?"
"She's trying to make a good first impression."
"I've never met an impression more overvalued than a first impression."
"Go on."
"Well, the way I see it, like what game are you playing? If you care so much about your appearance that you're willing to waste my time for it either your appearance is beyond repair, or you overthink everything."
"What's wrong with overthinking?'
"Everything. Stop wasting people's time. More importantly, stop assuming your time is more important than mine. It's not so much that overthinking is a problem as is the underlying need to be perfect. Perfection doesn't exist so chasing it becomes a total waste of time. Most of the time, good enough is good enough, ya know?"
I suppose he’s right. "Okay fine. I'm going to make you another martini. On the house. You can decide whether or not you want to drink it."

This kid has never been married. Trust me, after a while you want to see her dolled up. You see her regular all the time. You almost get used to it. But the nights she's dolled up, those are good nights.

8:35 pm

"Still nothing, huh?'
"You know, I have a 30-minute rule."
"What's that?"
"If she's not here within 30 minutes of the agreed time I leave."
"So why are you still here?"
"I think she's really fucking hot."
"Really?"
"Yeah, like way out of my league."
"Definitely out of your budget."
"Oh yeah, big time. But hey, I just want a shot."
"And that's why she's late."
"Why?"
"Because she can be. She's playing her cards exactly right. She knows she's hot, she knows that you know she's hot, and she also knows that you value hotness. Quite a lot, I’m sure. As long as she knows that, she's going to do whatever she wants because she knows she can do it without repercussions. She has you and she knows it."
"Damn."
"It's the superficial nature of it all. She knows that you don't care to know her, that you're probably just in it for the thrill of the chase. 'Just a shot' as you put it. So, she treats you accordingly. She knows you’re likely not the best one, but just the next one. And she can keep the next one waiting because there will always be another one after that."
"Wow, Mufasa...you have outdone yourself."
"It's okay Simba, that's what a father is for."
"You know, I have a father."
"Yeah, but he ain't your daddy..."
"Yeah, he is."
"Whatever you say, kid. So, what are you going to do?"
"Fuck it, I'm gone. Thank you. For everything."

Holy shit he's getting up from his chair. He turned around. No way. He's walking out the door...no fucking way! This mother fucker didn't even pay!! Eh, the Villagio will live. Never a dull night. Be free, young Simba, be free.